


Pretense

by howterrifying



Series: The Denial Mode Series [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlolly - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:47:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24018475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howterrifying/pseuds/howterrifying
Summary: Even the things that can't be hidden sometimes have to be.(written 15 Jan 2015)
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Series: The Denial Mode Series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1732471
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Pretense

**Author's Note:**

> The Denial Mode Series began in the midst of me struggling to get through my soap opera of a multi-chapter fic, The Admirer. In between, as a sort of refresher, and also as my way of ‘denying’ I had stuff to work on, I would call out for these prompts. The call was to either send me a single word or a single song. I received all sorts of lovely responses and these are the stories that developed from them. They mean a lot to me and I remember every single one of them from just looking at their titles. I hope you will enjoy them as much as I enjoyed writing them. :) x
> 
> ::
> 
> Anonymous asked: Can't pretend - Tom Odell. "Love, I have wounds, only you can mend, you can mend. I guess that's love,I can't pretend, I can't pretend"
> 
> Wow, this is a beautiful song. And very Sherlolly appropriate indeed. I can only hope I did it justice. Thank you for the prompt! :) xx

**Pretense**

“Sherlock, you don’t need a doctor.”   
“Of course I do.”   
“Well, _I’m_ a doctor.”   
“That is as maybe. Your stitching is clumsy,”   
“No, it’s _not_. Besides, you don’t need stitches anyway.”   
“Doesn’t matter. I’m off to Bart’s.”   
  
She was at her desk when he sauntered in. Looking up, her eyes homed in on the bruise on his cheek and the little gash at the tip of his cheekbone. Automatically, she got up from her seat as he followed her to the supply room. He got out the stool he always sat on whilst she rummaged for some cotton balls and ointment.   
  
“What happened then?” she asked, her voice muffled from searching deep in the cupboards.   
“Client took a swing at me. Told his wife that he was the embezzler.”   
“Should’ve exhibited more tact, Sherlock,” she said, clicking her tongue as she returned with supplies.   
“He didn’t deserve tact,” he answered smugly.   
“When it comes to you, nobody does,” Molly remarked with a laugh.   
  
Sherlock loved the way she worked so silently but so deftly. She meticulously sanitised the gash and painstakingly examined his bruise. When she was satisfied, she began to pack up whilst Sherlock stood up and returned the stool. They re-adjourned in the centre of the supply room, her eyes still scanning his face one last time for any injury she might have missed out.   
  
To Molly’s surprise, Sherlock leaned in and kissed her. She smiled against his mouth, reciprocating the kiss as she wrapped her arms around him. They were interrupted only when Sherlock’s phone chimed suddenly from an incoming message. With one arm still around Molly, Sherlock reached for his mobile and swiped at the screen. He stifled a laugh before returning the phone to his pocket, and returning his arm to properly embrace the woman he loved.   
  
“What’s so funny?” she asked, resting her cheek against his chest.   
“John’s come to Bart’s but can’t find me at the emergency wing.”   
“He’s going to find out one day, you know, Sherlock,” Molly said with a laugh. “Everyone will.”   
“Try me,” Sherlock said, smirking.   
“Remind me again, why we’ve to play pretend all the time?”   
“I can pretend not to know and love you, Molly,” Sherlock answered solemnly, “But I very much doubt I could feign nonchalance should anything happen to you.”   
“Sherlock…”   
“That’s just how it has to be.”   
“In your case, I guess that’s love.” she said, smiling against his shirt.   
  
Sherlock kissed her hair and held her tighter to himself, relishing this luxury that he dared not permit outside closed doors.   
  
“I guess it is,” he answered.

**END**


End file.
